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OCT  1   mo 


Hymns  &  Verses 

By 

Louis   F.  Benson 


Philadelphia 

The  Westminster  Press 

MDCCCXCVII 


Copyright,  1897 
By  Louis  F.  Benson 


To 
C.  P.  B. 

Take  my  book,  my  lady^ 

In  your  gracious  hand  : 
But  a  looky  my  lady. 
As  you  turn  its  pages  over  ; 
And  a  smile  to  tell  your  lover 

That  you  care  and  understand  ! 
Take  your  book,  my  lady  ; 
May  I  kiss  your  hand  ? 

Take  my  hearty  my  lady  ; 
Let  me  keep  your  hand : 
From  the  start,  my  lady. 
It  has  always  been  June  weather 
As  we  came  this  way  together 

In  the  light  that  filled  the  land. 
Keep  my  heart,  my  lady  ; 
May  I  keep  your  hand  ? 


Contents 


HYMNS 

Happy  Town  of  Salem 

Page  1 1 

A  Morning  Hymn  of  Praise 

H 

At  Lauds 

i6 

Beyond  Life's  Evening  Star 

i8 

The  Law  of  God 

20 

The  Lord  of  Glory 

22 

A  Morning  Hymn 

24 

A  Communion  Hymn 

26 

A  Hymn  of  Faith 

28 

In  His  Presence 

30 

Christ  and  His  Church 

32 

Before  the  Cross 

34 

A  College  Hymn 

36 

**  It  is  Finished  !" 

38 

The  Summons  of  the  Sea 

40 

When  We  Came  Back  to  Love 

42 

At  the  Installation  of  a  Pastor 

44 

At  the  Opening  of  Service 

46 

Offertory 

48 

At  the  Close  of  Service 
5 

49 

Contents 
HYMNS   FROM    THE   LATIN 

O  LUCE  QUI  MORTALIBUS  Page  53 

O  Christe,  qui  noster  poli  56 

Crux  ave  benedicta  !  58 

Nobis,  Olympo  redditus  60 

Ter  sancte,  ter  potens  Deus  62 

Nil  laudibus  nostris  eges  64 

O  Pater  sancte  mitis  atque  pie  66 

Deus,  Pater  ingenite  68 

Salvator  mundi,  Domine  70 

VERSES 


The  Bells  of  Christ  Church 

75 

Little  Foot  on  the  Fender 

77 

The  Last  Hill 

78 

On  Lake  George 

81 

My  Father's  House 

82 

"And  There  Shall  Be  No  Night  There" 

84 

An  Auction 

86 

An  Afternoon  in  November 

88 

The  Praise  of  Penn 

90 

Memory 

93 

Familiar  Music 

6 

94 

Contents 

The  Old  Loves  and  the  New  Page  96 

A  Nooning  98 

To-MoRROw  99 

The  Temple  of  the  New  Jerusalem  100 

SONNETS 

Bryant  107 

A  Dedication  108 

Loneliness  109 

The  Unchangeable  iio 

Cedars  by  Moonlight  i  i  i 

Of  Them  that  Sleep  112 


The  March  of  Braddock  1 15 


Hymns 


HAPPY   TOWN   OF  SALEM 

**  Urbs  beata  lerusalem 
Dicta  pacts  'visio,''^ 


HAPPY  town  of  Salem, 
Set  on  Zion's  hill ! 
Happy  hearts  of  pilgrims. 

Could  they  see  it  still  ! 
He  that  follows  Jesus, 

He  that  dares  the  right. 
Sees  the  lights  of  Salem 
Gleam  across  the  night. 

II 

Happy  town  of  Salem, 

With  the  jasper  wall ! 
In  its  many  mansions 

There  is  room  for  all. 
"  Come  to  Me,"  says  Jesus, 

**  I  will  give  you  rest  ;" 
And  the  town  of  Salem 

Gathers  all  the  blest. 


Happy  Town  of  Salem 
III 

Happy  town  of  Salem  ! 

Happy  little  feet 
Of  the  children  playing 

In  the  golden  street ! 
**  Let  them  come,"  says  Jesus, 

"  And  forbid  them  not  ;** 
But  the  proud  in  Salem 

Have  no  part  nor  lot. 


Happy  town  of  Salem, 

With  its  open  gates ! 
Happy  are  the  pilgrims 

Whom  a  welcome  waits  ! 
In  the  Name  of  Jesus 

They  an  entrance  claim. 
And  the  guards  of  Salem 

Answer,  "In  His  Name.' 


Happy  town  of  Salem, 
Vision  true  of  peace. 

Seen  above  earth's  strivings. 
Steadfast  when  they  cease  ! 


Happy  Town  of  Salem 

"  Take  thy  cross,"  says  Jesus  ; 

And  the  narrow  way 
Brings  the  feet  to  Salem 

At  the  break  of  day. 


13 


A  MORNING  HYMN  OF  PRAISE 


THE  sun  is  on  the  land  and  sea. 
The  day  begun ; 
Our  morning  hymn  begins  with  Thee, 

Blest  Three-in-One : 
Our  praise  shall  rise  continuously 
Till  day  is  done. 


Thy  love  was  ever  in  our  view. 

Like  stars,  by  night ; 
Thy  gifts  are  every  morning  new, 

O  God  of  light ; 
Thy  mercy,  like  the  heavens'  blue. 

Fills  all  our  sight. 

Ill 

We  do  not  know  what  grief  or  care 
The  day  may  bring  : 


A  Morning  Hymn  of  Praise 

The  heart  shall  find  some  gladness  there 

That  loves  its  King  ; 
The  life  that  serves  Thee  everywhere 

Can  always  sing. 

IV 

All  glory  to  the  Father  be. 

With  Christ  the  Son, 
And,  Holy  Spirit,  unto  Thee, 

Forever  One ; 
All  glory  to  the  Trinity 

While  ages  run. 


«5 


AT  LAUDS 


OUR  King's  own  child,  the  morning. 
Uplifts  its  golden  head ; 
The  gems  its  crown  adorning 
Are  pearls  and  rubies  red  : 
And  fleecy  stuiFs  in  cloudland  made 
Are  on  its  shoulders  lightly  laid. 


Our  King's  best  gift,  the  morning. 

Lies  lavish  o'er  the  land. 
But  shrinks  within  the  scorning 
Of  an  unwilling  hand. 
Lord,  make  us  wise  the  best  to  choose. 
And  to  Thy  praise  Thy  gifts  to  use. 

Ill 
The  royal  lights  of  morning. 
How  quickly  paled  and  gray ! 
i6 


At  Lauds 

And  falls,  with  scarce  a  warning. 
The  light  of  common  day  : 
Perchance  the  common  day  may  be 
The  golden  opportunity. 

IV 

To  God,  the  light's  Creator, 

To  Christ,  the  Light  of  Light, 
To  God,  Illuminator, 

Be  praise  from  dawn  to  night. 
To  God,  enthroned  above  the  skies. 
Our  morning  song  shall  ever  rise. 


17 


BEYOND  LIFE'S  EVENING  STAR 


GOOD    Shepherd!     Theirs,   who    heard    Thy 
call; 
Content  to  walk  with  Thee, 
While  sunlight  stays,  when  shadows  fall. 
And  then  —  we  could  not  see  — 
Beyond  life's  evening  star. 

Into  the  paling  west. 
Where  they  who  followed  far 
Have  ended  now  their  quest. 


Good  Shepherd !     Ours,  with  feet  less  bold 

To  choose  the  way  they  took  ; 
Half  longing  for  that  distant  fold. 
And  half  afraid  to  look 

Beyond  life's  evening  star. 

Beyond  the  things  that  seem, 
Nor  shade  nor  sunlight  are,  — 
The  twilight  and  the  dream ! 
i8 


Beyond  Life's  Evening  Star 


Good  Shepherd !     When  we  leave  Thy  side 

In  doubtful  dreams  to  stray. 
Our  wayward  eyes  refuse  their  Guide, 
Who  only  knows  the  way 

Beyond  life's  evening  star 

And  through  the  paling  west. 
Where  they  who  follow  far 
Are  with  Thee  still  in  rest. 


19 


THE   LAW   OF  GOD 


THY  laws,  O  God,  forever  steadfast  stand 
Till  all  shall  be  fulfilled ; 
The  sceptre  is  not  fallen  from  Thy  hand. 
Nor  Sinai's  trumpet  stilled. 


O  Thou  whose  voice  proclaims  Thy  changeless  will. 

Imperial  as  Thy  grace. 
Who  shall  ascend  unto  Thy  holy  hill. 

And  stand  before  Thy  face  ? 


No  strength  of  soul  can  that  clear  height  attain. 

Nor  pride  for  sin  atone  ; 
And  sacrifice  uplifts  its  hands  in  vain 

To  plead  at  Mercy's  throne. 


The  Law  of  God 

IV 

But  he  whose  hands,  O  Christ,  are  brotherly. 

And,  like  Thine  own,  are  just ; 
Whose  feet  through  lowly  ways  have  walked  with 
Thee 

In  humble,  child-like  trust ; 


He  shall  ascend  unto  Thy  holy  hill. 

And  dwell  with  Thee  above ; 
For,  though  Thy  statutes  are  imperious  still. 

Thy  law,  O  God,  is  love. 


THE   LORD  OF   GLORY 


A  GLORY  lit  the  wintry  sky 
Before  the  break  of  day. 
And  in  a  little  house  near  by 
The  Lord  of  Glory  lay  : 

Angels  of  peace  the  tidings  bring. 
Angels  of  Jesus  sing. 


Our  common  ways  with  anxious  feet 

The  Lord  of  Glory  trod. 
But  met  not  one  in  lane  or  street 
That  knew  the  Son  of  God : 

Angels  of  peace  their  greetings  bring. 
Angels  that  may  not  sing. 


"  I  come  to  bring  the  weary  rest," 
The  Lord  of  Glory  said. 


The  Lord  of  Glory 

Yet  found  no  place  to  east  or  west 
Where  He  might  lay  His  head : 

Angels  of  peace  above  Him  still. 
Angels  await  His  will. 


And  when  they  led  Him  forth  to  die. 

Around  His  cross  of  shame 
The  men  He  came  to  save  stood  by 
And  mocked  their  Saviour's  Name : 

Angels  of  peace  their  stations  keep. 
Angels  of  sorrow  weep. 


O  Son  of  Man  whom  angels  know  ! 

O  heart  of  man,  how  cold. 
How  dull  to  see,  to  praise  how  slow. 
Now  as  in  days  of  old  ! 

Angels  of  peace  their  hymns  upraise. 
Angels  of  glory  praise. 


23 


A  MORNING   HYMN 


WHEN  I  awake  from  slumber 
To  greet  the  golden  day. 
Then  teach  me.  Lord,  to  number 
Its  hours  in  wisdom's  way. 


When  clouds  at  dawn  are  gleaming. 
Lift  up  mine  answering  eyes 

To  where  Thy  light  is  streaming 
On  faith's  high  enterprise. 

Ill 

Whither  I  hear  Thee  calling. 
Lord,  give  me  grace  to  run ; 

Keep  Thou  my  feet  from  falling 
Until  Thy  will  is  done. 
24 


A  Morning  Hymn 


IV 


Whene'er  the  heart  grows  weary. 
And  every  goal  seems  far. 

Reveal  Thyself  as  near  me 
As  life  and  duty  are. 


And  when  the  light  is  fading, 
If  dreams  have  not  come  true. 

Yet  may  Thy  peace  pervading 
Be  breathed  the  twilight  through. 

VI 

When  day  at  last  is  ended. 

And  shadows  are  grown  deep. 

By  Thy  kind  arms  defended. 
Lord,  lay  me  down  to  sleep. 


A   COMMUNION   HYMN 


LO  !  Thou  art  with  us.  Lord, 
Now,  always,  to  the  end. 
Why  stand  we  gazing  heavenward 
To  find  Thee,  nearest  Friend  ? 


Lo  !  Thou  art  with  us.  Lord  j 

Of  every  heart  the  Guest, 
The  Bond  which  binds  in  sweet  accord 

All  hearts  that  in  Thee  rest. 


Lo  !  Thou  art  with  us.  Lord  ; 

Of  Thine  own  House  the  Head, 
Thou  sittest  at  the  holy  board 

To  bless  the  broken  bread. 
26 


A  Communion  Hymn 


Lo  !  Thou  art  with  us.  Lord, 
Who  still  Thyself  dost  give ; 

Thy  life  the  cup  which  is  outpoured. 
The  bread  by  which  we  live. 


Lo  !  Thou  art  with  us.  Lord, 
Whom  Thou  hast  never  failed  ; 

Here  where  Thy  presence  is  adored. 
Thy  face  but  thinly  veiled. 


27 


A   HYMN   OF   FAITH 


WE  would  not  climb  with  earth-bound  feet 
High  airy  ways  untrod. 
Where  angels,  hither  coming,  meet 

Those  going  back  to  God : 
We  would  not  strain  our  wearied  eyes 

To  see  the  paths  they  took. 
Nor  blind  them  in  the  light  that  lies 
Where  angels  fear  to  look. 


We  have  not  sought  with  human  span 

To  measure  ways  like  Thine, 
Nor  dreamed,  O  God,  that  mortal  man 

Could  think  Thy  thoughts  Divine  : 
In  vain  our  futile  patience  waits 

Till  knowledge  turns  the  key 
That  opens  wide  the  sealed  gates 

Of  Thine  infinity. 


A  Hymn  of  Faith 


And  yet,  as  high  as  faith  may  go. 

As  far  as  knowledge  see. 
The  heart  would  seek  its  Lord  to  know. 

The  mind  discover  Thee  : 
Would  know  Thee,  unto  truth  drawn  nigh 

By  loving  what  is  true  ; 
Would  see  Thee,  as  the  climber's  eye 

Anticipates  the  view. 


We  rest  upon  Thy  fatherhood. 

While,  round  and  overhead. 
Thy  being's  boundless  amplitude 

Like  seas  and  sky  is  spread. 
Oh,  better  than  in  vain  to  try 

To  plumb  th'  unsounded  sea. 
Or  win  the  secrets  of  the  sky. 

It  is  to  rest  in  Thee. 


29 


IN   HIS  PRESENCE 


ALL  life  is  in  Thy  presence.  Lord ; 
Our  deeds  are  in  Thy  sight; 
Thine  eyes  behold.  Thy  hands  record 
Our  very  thoughts  by  night. 


All  life  is  in  Thy  presence.  Lord ; 

And,  hallowed  by  Thy  smile. 
Its  humblest  tasks  great  hopes  afford. 

Its  failures  seem  worth  while. 


All  life  is  in  Thy  presence.  Lord ; 

And  most  that  life  is  blest 
Which  finds  Thy  favor  its  reward. 

And  Thy  protection  rest. 
30 


In  His  Presence 


A]]  life  is  in  Thy  presence.  Lord  ; 

Content  to  dwell  with  Thee 
When  by  Thy  fellowship  restored 

To  peace  and  purity. 


All  life  is  in  Thy  presence.  Lord ; 

By  all  things,  great  and  small. 
Be  Thy  blest  Name  Triune  adored. 

Who  art  the  All-in-all. 


31 


CHRIST  AND   HIS   CHURCH 


THINE  eyes  sought  out  Thine  own. 
Thy  voice  said,  "  Follow  Me  ;" 
To  simple  hearts  of  Galilee 
Thy  light  and  love  were  shown. 
O  Jesus,  we  are  Thine, 

Thou  callest  us  to-day  ; 
Thy  light  and  love  still  steadfast  shine 
To  guide  Thy  Church's  way. 


Thine  eyes  among  Thy  flock 
For  living  faith  made  search ; 
Thy  voice  exulting  said,  **  My  Church 
I  build  upon  this  rock." 

O  Jesus,  guard  it  well. 

Lest  faith  and  courage  fail ; 
Thou  wilt  not  let  the  gates  of  hell 
Against  Thy  Church  prevail. 
3z 


Christ  and  His  Church 


Thine  eyes  saw,  full  in  view. 
Thy  cross  stand  just  ahead  ; 
Thy  voice  to  Thine  eleven  said, 
**  My  peace  I  leave  with  you." 
O  Jesus,  at  Thy  side 

All  strife  and  discord  cease ; 
And  where  her  Lord  was  crucified 
Thy  Church  shall  find  her  peace. 


Thine  eyes  far  glories  fill. 
Thy  love  does  not  forget ; 
Thy  voice,  where  doubting  hearts  were  met. 
Said,  "  I  am  with  you  still.'* 
O  Jesus,  only  Thou, 

Uplifted  from  the  dead 
And  throned  in  highest  Heaven  now, 
Shalt  be  Thy  Church's  Head. 


33 


BEFORE  THE   CROSS 


0  HEAVENLY  love  that  was  so  high, 
So  lowly  now  for  love  of  me ! 
The  Son  of  God  hath  stooped  to  die 
The  death  of  shame  upon  the  tree. 
For  me  the  Lord  that  loved  me  died ; 
The  Son  of  God  is  crucified. 


The  Son  of  God,  the  Lord  of  Life ; 

That  royal  head  uncrowned  for  me  ! 
The  Prince  of  Peace  amid  the  strife ; 

His  lifted  cross  my  victory  ! 
Here  weep,  my  sin ;  here  kneel,  my  pride 
The  Son  of  God  is  crucified. 


Is  crucified  !     Those  hands  impaled 
The  sins  of  other  hands  to  bear ; 
34 


Before  the  Cross 

Those  feet,  for  feet  that  wandered,  nailed ; 

For  my  transgressions  wounded  there. 
For  me  the  Lord  that  loved  me  died ; 
The  Son  of  God  is  crucified. 


Before  His  cross  the  heart  is  hushed. 

The  eyes  that  see  their  Lord  grow  dim ; 

And  all  the  works  of  pride  lie  crushed 
Beneath  the  weight  it  laid  on  Him. 

No  thought,  no  prayer,  no  plea,  beside 

"The  Son  of  God  is  crucified." 


35 


A   COLLEGE   HYMN 


0  CHRIST,  who  didst  our  tasks  fulfil. 
Didst  share  the  hopes  of  youth. 
Our  Teacher  and  our  Brother  still. 
Now  lead  us  into  truth. 


The  call  is  Thine :  be  Thou  the  Way, 
And  Thine  the  hearts  that  guide  ; 

Let  wisdom  broaden  with  the  day. 
Let  human  faith  abide. 


Who  learns  of  Thee  the  truth  shall  find. 
Who  follows,  wins  the  goal ; 

With  reverence  crown  the  earnest  mind. 
And  speak  within  the  soul. 
36 


A  College  Hymn 


Waken  the  purpose  high  which  strives. 

And,  falling,  stands  again  ; 
Confirm  the  will  of  eager  lives 

To  quit  themselves  like  men ; 


Thy  life  the  bond  of  fellowship. 
Thy  love  the  law  that  rules. 

Thy  Name,  proclaimed  by  every  lip. 
The  Master  of  our  schools. 


37 


IT  IS   FINISHED 


f" 


"TT  is  finished  !"  Jesus  cries, 

JL     As  upon  the  cross  He  dies. 
"  It  is  finished  !"  says  the  Son, 
For  the  Father's  will  is  done. 


'*  It  is  finished  !"     Long  ago 
Prophets  saw  Messiah's  woe  : 
Now  their  visions  are  fulfilled. 
And  the  SuiFerer's  heart  is  stilled. 


"  It  is  finished  !"  —  every  throe 
Human  strength  may  undergo. 
From  the  infant's  cry  for  breath 
To  the  bitter  sting  of  death. 
38 


"  It  is  Finished  I" 


*'  It  is  finished  !"  —  the  long  way- 
Through  the  gloom  to  break  of  day  j 
And  the  path  of  sacrifice 
Leads  at  last  to  Paradise. 


"  It  is  finished  !"     Jesus,  rest 
With  the  weary  and  oppressed. 
Till  the  life  Thou  hast  laid  down 
Shall  arise  to  take  its  crown. 


VI 

"  It  is  finished  !"     Christ,  in  Thee 
Faith  shall  claim  the  victory. 
By  the  deeds  that  Thou  hast  done 
In  the  battle  Thou  hast  won. 


39 


THE  SUMMONS  OF  THE  SEA 


WHY  linger  yet  upon  the  sand  ? 
Why  hug  the  sheltered  lee  ? 
O  heart  of  mine,  wouldst  thou  withstand 
The  summons  of  the  sea  ? 


What  wider  ways  that  God  has  planned 

Bode  ill,  my  life,  to  thee. 
If  in  the  hollow  of  His  hand 

He  holds  the  unknown  sea  ? 


Why  dream  of  breakers  on  the  shore. 
Or  reefs  thou  canst  not  see  ? 

O  life  of  mine,  what  needst  thou  more. 
If  Christ  thy  Pilot  be  ? 
40 


The  Summons  of  the  Sea 

IV 

What  woe  to  thee  in  wind  or  tide  ? 

My  heart,  why  frightened  be 
Aboard  life's  sinking  ship,  beside 

The  One  who  walks  the  sea  ? 


41 


WHEN   WE    CAME    BACK   TO 
LOVE 


OUR  wilful  hearts  have  gone  astray  ; 
Our  feet  have  wandered  far  away ; 
O  God,  remember  not  the  day 

When  we  forsook  Thy  love. 


O  patient  Eyes  that  saw  us  go  ! 

O  careless  hearts  to  grieve  Him  so  ! 

O  feet  so  swift  to  leave,  so  slow 

When  we  came  back  to  Love  ! 

Ill 

We  followed  far  the  wayward  will ; 
Our  eyes  turned  home  from  every  hill ; 
They  found  Thee  waiting,  watching  still 
When  we  came  back  to  Love. 

42 


When  We  Came  Back  to  Love 


We  found  no  home  to  east  or  west ; 
We  bore  no  peace  within  the  breast. 
Until  once  more  we  were  at  rest 

When  we  came  back  to  Love. 


"  Our  Father  !"     Hallowed  be  the  Name 
That  all  within  Thy  house  proclaim ; 
Their  prayer  and  ours  at  last  the  same,  — 
Thy  will  be  done,  O  Love. 


43 


AT    THE    INSTALLATION    OF 
A   PASTOR 


0  RISEN  Christ,  who  from  Thy  throne 
Dost  rule  Thy  Church,  and  hear  Thine  own. 
Now  seal  by  Thine  almighty  power 
The  covenants  of  this  sacred  hour. 


Weave  Thou  Thy  life  through  these  new  ties 
The  light  of  love  that  round  Thee  lies 
Circle  the  shepherd  and  the  sheep. 
And  all  our  lives  in  safety  keep. 


The  shepherd's  Shepherd  only  Thou 
Canst  be  :  O  Christ,  walk  with  him  now  ; 
While  our  weak  hands  reach  up  to  Thine, 
To  strengthen  his  with  might  Divine. 
44 


At  the  Installation  of  a  Pastor 


IV 


Thou  in  whose  love  Thy  Church  is  blest. 
Thy  Name  alone  be  here  confessed. 
By  holy  lives  be  glorified. 
While  here  Thy  peace  shall  still  abide. 


45 


AT  THE  OPENING  OF 
SERVICE 


FATHER,  once  more  within  Thy  Holy  Place 
We  bring  the  sins  which,  kneeling,  we  confess  ; 
Not  worthy  yet  to  look  upon  Thy  face. 

Yet  loath  to  rise  until  Thy  hand  doth  bless. 


Father,  once  more  within  Thy  House  of  Hope 
We  turn  from  sin  to  find  a  glad  release  : 

In  Thy  forgiveness  there  is  strength  to  cope 
With  all  that  robs  the  spirit  of  Thy  peace. 

Ill 

Father,  once  more  within  Thy  House  of  Prayer 
We  kneel  before  Thee  at  the  open  way  ; 

And,  leaving  both  our  hopes  and  burdens  there. 
We  wait  till  Thou  shalt  teach  us  how  to  pray. 
46 


At  the  Opening  of  Service 


Father,  once  more  within  Thy  House  of  Praise 
We   bring   our  gifts   to  Thee   from  whom  they 
came; 

We  lift  our  hearts  and  our  hosannas  raise 

To  welcome  Him  who  cometh  in  Thy  Name. 


47 


OFFERTORY 


WE  can  but  give  Thee  what  is  Thine, 
For  we  have  naught  beside : 
Accept  from  us,  O  Love- Divine, 
The  gifts  Thou  dost  provide. 


To  whom,  O  Saviour,  but  to  Thee, 

Must  cloistered  pity  go 
To  find  the  wells  of  charity. 

Since  Thou  hast  loved  us  so  ? 


O  Holy  Spirit,  Thou  best  Gift 
Sent  down  from  Heaven  above. 

May  Thy  sweet  inspirations  lift 
Our  lives  to  deeds  of  love. 


48 


AT   THE    CLOSE   OF  SERVICE 


0 


HOLY  One, 

Our  prayers  are  done. 
And  with  Thy  blessing  may  our  worship  cease. 
To  all  that  waits 
Beyond  the  shelter  of  Thy  gates 
Now  lettest  Thou  Thy  servants  go  in  peace. 


O  Glorious  One, 
Our  songs  are  done ; 
The  world  is  calling  and  its  cares  increase. 
With  lips  that  praise 
And  hearts  that  softly  sing  always. 
Now  lettest  Thou  Thy  servants  go  in  peace. 
49 


At  the  Close  of  Service 

III 

O  Changeless  One, 

When  life  is  done 
Breathe  through  the  dark  Thy  pardon  and  release. 

Thou  wilt  forget. 
But  lest  some  shame  may  linger  yet. 
Now  lettest  Thou  Thy  servants  go  in  peace. 


SO 


Hymns  from  the  Latin 


5« 


©  luce  qui  mortalibus 
Xates  inaccessa,  Beus! 
IPraeaente  quo  sancti  trcmunt 
IQubuntquc  vultus  angeli, 

[By  Charles  Coffin  ;  bom  j6y6,  died  iy4g.  In  the  Farts 
Breviary  of  1^36  it  is  the  hymn  appointed  for  Vespers  on  the 
Sundays  from  Trinity  to  Advent. \ 


O 


GOD  Most  High, 
By  mortal  eye 
Unseen,  Thou  hidest  in  the  light. 
Upon  whose  brink 
E'en  angels  shrink. 
And  veil  their  faces  from  the  sight. 


'Tis  darkness  here. 

And,  far  or  near. 
Through  deepest  shadow  lies  the  way 

Unto  the  gate, — 

And  there  to  wait 
The  rising  of  eternal  day. 
53 


O  luce  qui  mortalibus 


The  flash  of  dawn 

So  quickly  gone. 
The  brightest  blaze  of  noontide's  ray. 

Like  twilight  seem 

Beside  the  gleam 
And  glory  of  that  coming  day. 


IV 

O  golden  day. 

So  far  away. 
Why  dost  thou  linger,  yet  how  long  ? 

From  flesh  set  free 

The  soul  must  be 
Ere  it  can  join  thy  morning  song. 


Its  chains  put  by. 

How  swift  to  fly, 
O  God,  to  look  upon  Thy  face  ! 

Of  love  to  Thee 

Its  song  shall  be. 
Its  lasting  joy  to  praise  Thy  grace. 
54 


O  luce  qui  mortalibus 

VI 

Blest  Trinity, 
May  Thy  gifts  be 

Our  gracious  helpers  by  the  way. 
Till  our  brief  night 
Shall  catch  the  light 

That  heralds  the  eternal  day. 


55 


©  Cbciste,  qui  noster  poU 
IPraecursoc  intras  rcgtam, 
(Sluos  bic  jaccntcs  respicie, 
Sursum  voca,  sursum  rape, 

(yf  Aj^ww  /ri/  appearing  in  the  Cluniac  Breviary  of  1686. ) 


OUR  Herald-Christ  at  Heaven's  gate. 
Our  King  within  its  walls. 
Thine  eye  yet  sees  us,  lingering  late ; 
Thy  voice,  once  more  it  calls. 

II 

Make  us  to  seek  with  love  more  bold 

Those  joys  that  purer  seem. 
Which  earthly  eyes  may  not  behold. 

Nor  faith's,  except  in  dream. 

Ill 

Where  hearts  that  strove  yet  feared  to  fall. 
And  hands  that  toiled,  have  rest ; 

Where  God  Himself  is  All-in-all, 
And  all  His  own  are  blest. 
56 


O  Christe,  qui  noster  poll 


And  lest  we  lose  that  glory's  crown. 
And  lest  we  miss  that  prize, 

O  Christ,  Thy  Spirit's  grace  send  down 
To  give  us  strength  to  rise. 


All  praise  to  Thee,  our  Herald-King, 
With  Him  at  whose  right  hand 

Thou  art,  and  Him  whose  power  can  bring 
Thy  children  to  that  land. 


57 


*     Crui  ave  beneDicta! 
IPer  tc  mors  est  Oevicta, 
Hn  te  DepenDit  2)eus, 
IRci  et  Salvator  rneus* 

(^yS passion  hymn  of  unknoivn  authorship.^ 


HAIL,  blessed  cross !     Those  arms  of  thine 
Have  drawn  from  death  its  sting. 
For  they  have  borne  the  Lord  Divine, 
My  Saviour  and  my  King, 

II 

Of  all  earth's  trees  the  queenliest. 

Of  all  earth's  ills  the  cure. 
Of  burdened  hearts  thou  art  the  rest. 

Of  griefs,  the  solace  sure. 

Ill 

O  holiest  wood  !  the  pledge  and  sign 

Of  our  new  life  thou  art ; 
And  on  thee  grows  the  fruit  Divine 

That  feeds  the  human  heart. 
58 


Crux  ave  benedicta ! 


When  those  that  love  and  those  that  hate 
Thy  cross  shall  summoned  be, 

O  Jesus,  for  whose  call  they  wait, 
I  pray,  remember  me. 


59 


IRobis,  ©l^mpo  reDDitus, 
(Slul,  Cbristc,  seDes  pracparas» 
IFIO0  eiules  in  patriam 
TTrabas  amoris  nciibus, 

(^«  Ascension  Hymny  by  Jean-Baptiste  de  Santeuil  ;  born 
l6jOy  died  idgy.  I  have  taken  the  text  from  the  second 
edition  of  his  Hymni  Sacri  et  Novi,  Paris,  1698,  in  prefer- 
ence to  that  of  the  Paris  Breviary j  ivhich  omits  the  second 
verse  and  adds  a  somewhat  inconsequent  doxology.) 


RETURNED  to  Heaven  and  reigning  there. 
Our  place,  O  Christ,  Thou  dost  prepare  : 
Now  gently  draw  with  cords  of  love 
Thine  exiles  to  their  home  above. 


Where  dwell  the  blest,  from  cares  how  free. 
Secure  in  their  felicity  ; 
And  there  at  life's  full  river's  brink 
Deep  draughts  of  bliss  immortal  drink. 
60 


-\ 


Nobis,  Olympo  redditus 


With  all  good  gifts  abounding.  Lord, 
Thou  shalt  be  there  our  great  Reward 
Beside  those  pleasures  which  remain. 
How  brief  this  passing  day  of  pain ! 


And  when  the  veil  is  drawn  apart. 
And  we  behold  Thee  as  Thou  art. 
Our  love  shall  answer  Thine  always. 
Our  lips  shall  never  cease  Thy  praise. 


Till  then  be  mindful  of  Thine  own. 
And,  like  a  dove  from  far  heights  flown. 
The  Spirit  of  adoption  send 
To  pledge  our  welcome  at  the  end. 


6i 


^er  6anctc,  tcr  potens  Bcus, 
Uncomprebensa  C^rinitas : 
©  lui  perennis !  proprii0 
©  ter  beata  gauMls! 

(ify  Claude  de  Santeuil  ;  born  1628 ^  died  1684.     '^^^  hymn  is 
assigned  to  Trinity  Sunday  in  the  Paris  Breviary, ^ 

I 

THRICE-HOLY  God,  of  threefold  might. 
The  Trinity  confessed. 
Thrice-glorious  with  eternal  light. 
With  joys  Divine  thrice-blest ! 


O  Unity  forever  true, 

O  Truth  forever  one. 
Eternal  Love  forever  new. 

Whose  gifts  are  never  done  ! 

Ill 

Thick  clouds  of  darkness  like  a  wall 
Conceal  Thy  splendor's  blaze. 

Where  angels  on  their  faces  fall. 
Nor,  trembling,  dare  to  gaze. 
62 


Ter  sancte,  ter  potens  Deus 


Thy  flock  sounds  forth  Thy  threefold  Name 

In  which  it  is  baptized  ; 
Faith  sights  the  Heaven  from  which  it  came. 

And  love  would  grasp  the  prize. 


Lord,  give  us  grace  to  do  Thy  will ; 

O  Christ,  instruct  the  heart ; 
Thou  Holy  Spirit,  help  us  still 

To  choose  the  better  part. 

VI 

Let  God  the  Father  be  adored. 

With  his  coequal  Son, 
And  with  the  Holy  Ghost,  one  Lord, 

Thrice-royal,  ever  One. 


63 


Jilil  lauDibu6  nostris  e^ea, 
SeO  fiU06  amas,  ipatcr ; 
/Dbultaque  coelcstem  prcce 
Vie  provocari  gratiam. 

By  Charles  Coffin  ;  born  i6'/6,  died  iy4g.  Like  most  of  his 
hymns,  this  one  Jirst  appeared  in  the  Paris  Breviary  of  /7j6, 
•where  it  is  appointed  for  Monday  at  Lauds.) 


OUR  praises.  Lord,  Thou  dost  not  need ; 
'Tis  rather  that  Thy  love 
Would  have  Thy  children  come  to  plead 
For  blessings  from  above. 


The  secrets  of  Thy  dark  decrees 
Deep  night  in  silence  sings ; 

Thy  mercy's  light,  in  golden  seas. 
The  flooding  sunshine  brings. 


Nor  thought  nor  voice  fulfil  their  part. 
When  by  such  vi'onders  thrilled ; 

Yet  love  that  pulses  through  the  heart 
Refuses  to  be  stilled. 
64 


Nil  laudibus  nostris  eges 


So  let  it  speak  our  Father's  praise 
To  Thee,  whose  grace  affords 

A  present  help  in  evil  days. 
And  hope  of  great  rewards. 


To  them  our  dearest  wishes  rise. 
Though  earthly  thoughts  contend 

O  Jesus,  draw  us  toward  the  skies. 
And  guide  us  till  the  end. 


65 


©  IPater  emctc  mitis  ataue  pie, 
Q  5esu  Cbriste  3FiU  vcneranDe, 
Iparacliteaue  Spiritus  ©  almct 
2)eus  aeterne. 

(^^  hymn  of  unknoivn  authorship  found  in  more  than  one  manu- 
script of  the  eleventh  century.) 


FATHER,  all-holy,  merciful,  and  tender, 
Christ,  fitly  worshipped  in  Thy  royal  splendor. 
Spirit  most  gracious.  Helper  and  Defender, 
God  everlasting ! 


Trinity  holy.  Unity  unbroken, 
God,  of  whose  greatness  goodness  is  the  token, 
Joy  of  the  angels.  Balm  of  griefs  unspoken, 
Hope  all-surpassing ! 


All  things  to  serve  Thee,  Lord,  Thou  hast  created ; 

All  creatures'  homage.  Lord,  on  Thee  has  waited ; 

Our  hymns  we  offer,  to  Thee  dedicated : 

Hear  them  ascending. 

66 


O  Pater  sancte  mitis  atque  pie 


Glory  to  Thee,  O  Sovereign  God  Almighty, 
Whose    power  and   greatness    Three-in-One  unite 

Thee; 
Anthems  and  praises  unto  Thee  most  rightly 
Rise  never  ending. 


67 


2)eu0,  ipater  ingcnitc, 
JBt  3fili  unigenitCt 
(SIU06  Tlrinitatis  unitas 
Sancto  connectit  Spicitu, 

{By  Hilary  of  Poictiers,  ivAo  died  at  that  place  A.D.  ^68. 
His  hymns^  but  fenv  of  ivhich  ha've  survived^  stand  among 
the  beginnings  of  Latin  Hymnody.) 


FATHER  unbegotten. 
Sole-begotten  Son, 
With  the  Holy  Spirit, 
God  the  Three-in-One ; 

II 
Never  one  who  seeks  Thee 

Breathes  a  futile  prayer  : 
When  love's  face  is  lifted. 

Heaven's  light  falls  there. 

Ill 

Hear,  O  God,  the  voices 

Paying  vows  to  Thee  ; 

To  their  hearts'  confessions 

Ever  gracious  be. 

68 


Deus,  Pater  ingenite 

IV 

Now  the  dawn  reminds  us 
Of  the  thanks  we  owe. 

Wakens  songs  of  praises 
As  the  shadows  go. 


Hear  us.  Gracious  Saviour, 
Hallow  this  new  day. 

Order  all  our  doings. 
Lest  our  footsteps  stray. 


69 


Salvator  munM»  Domine, 
(Slui  nos  salvasti  boDic, 
%n  bac  nocte  nos  protege, 
lEt  galva  omni  tempore, 

[A  hymn  of  unknown  authorship  •which  Mone  thinks  of  the  sixth 
or  seventh  century.  It  is  found  in  several  hymnaries  and 
bre-viarieSf  nvhere  it  seems  to  ha've  no  fixed  placCy  but  is 
assigned  to  varying  seasons  of  the  Church  year.) 


OTHOU,  the  Saviour  of  the  world. 
Who  kept  us  safe  to-day. 
Through  all  this  night  protect  us  still. 
And  save  us.  Lord,  alwsiy. 


Reveal  Thy  gracious  presence  now. 

And  spare  us  while  we  pray ; 
Lift  off  the  burden  of  our  sins. 
And  turn  our  night  to  day. 
70 


Salvator  mundi,  Domine 


May  sleep  fall  lightly  on  the  soul. 
No  sudden  foe  surprise. 

Nor  any  stain  defile  the  flesh 
While  it  unguarded  lies. 

IV 

To  Thee,  Renewer  of  our  lives. 
Our  earnest  prayer  we  make. 

That  we  serene  and  pure  in  heart 
From  out  of  sleep  may  wake. 


To  God  the  Father  glory  be 

And  to  His  only  Son, 
With  God  the  Holy  Comforter, 

Forever  Three-in-One. 


71 


[  The  hymns  at  pages  i8  and  64  are 
reprinted  here  by  kind  permission  of  the 
Editor  of  The  Sunday  School  Times, 
nv  herein  they  first  appeared."] 

72 


Verses 


73 


THE  BELLS  OF  CHRIST 
CHURCH 

OVER  the  roofs  that  rise  between 
I  hear  the  bells  of  Christ  Church  chiming ; 
As  though  upon  bright  hills  unseen 
Glad  angels  sang  where  they  were  climbing. 

Or  some  stray  minstrel,  passing  by. 
Carolled  his  airy  fancies,  rhyming. 

That  laughed  together  in  the  sky. 
And  set  the  bells  of  Christ  Church  chiming. 

Above  the  clamor  of  the  town 
I  hear  the  bells  of  Christ  Church  ringing  ; 

As  though  some  herald,  flying  down. 
His  messages  of  peace  were  bringing. 

And  all  the  voices  of  the  air 
In  sweet  companionship  were  singing 

The  call  to  worship  and  to  prayer 
In  Christ  Church,  where  the  bells  are  ringing. 
6  75 


The  Bells  of  Christ  Church 

Out  of  the  darkness  and  the  rain 
I  hear  the  bells  of  Christ  Church  tolling ; 

As  though  long  rhythmic  waves  of  pain 
Upon  a  cloudland  shore  were  rolling. 

Where  some  sad  spirit,  left  alone. 
In  need  of  friendship  and  consoling. 

Counted  his  sorrows  one  by  one. 
I  hear  the  bells  of  Christ  Church  tolling, 

1882. 


76 


LITTLE   FOOT   ON   THE 
FENDER 

"^  I  ^IS  a  little  song  that  I  send  her ; 

X       'Tis  a  little  maid  whom  I  see  ; 
'Tis  a  little  foot  on  the  fender. 

And  a  prayer,  —  will  it  wait  for  me  ? 

May  the  angels  of  God  attend  her, 
Who  are  nearer  than  I  can  be  ; 

And  thou,  little  foot  on  the  fender. 

Wilt  thou  walk  the  long  path  with  me 


77 


THE  LAST   HILL 

{^A painting  by  James  Hamilton.) 

UP  from  low  valleys  where  the  slow  brooks  wind 
Between  the  meadow  lands,  with   wavering 
wills 
That  hear  the  sea,  yet  love  the  haunts  behind. 
Starts  the  long  path  of  life  across  the  hills. 

Now  lies  the  glow  of  morning  on  the  path. 
With  borders  of  wild  blossom  laid  along ; 

Its  first  found  upland  greeted  with  a  laugh. 
Its  easy  summits  mounted  with  a  song. 

With  lavish  life  the  fields  and  woods  are  green, 
'Neath  radiant  skies  that  arch  the  perfect  days ; 

And  many  are  the  friends  we  walk  between. 
Before  we  reach  the  parting  of  the  ways. 

Where  every  path  is  waiting  for  its  own, 
Inviting  him  to  come,  he  sees  not  where. 

Save  only  when  the  boughs,  asunder  blown. 
Reveal  far  summits  in  the  distant  air. 
78 


The  Last  Hill 

And  now,  with  all  his  comrades  laid  at  rest 
In  backward  valleys,  where  they  linger  still. 

This  lonely  pilgrim  at  the  utmost  west 

Has  reached  the  sloping  crown  of  life's  last  hill. 

He  wades  among  the  drifted  auiumn  leaves 

With  his  worn  staff,  and  peers  with  vacant  sight 

Into  the  dim  beyond,  where  sunset  weaves 
A  faded  border  on  the  edge  of  night. 

Which  on  the  caps  of  cloud-hills  lingers  last, — 
The  glow  of  hope  that  vanishes  in  pain 

Off  airy  summits  rising  from  the  past. 

Far  gleaming,  so  long  toiled  for,  unattained. 

Do  joys  remembered  seem  to  fall  again. 

From  off  long-withered  seasons,  at  the  sight 

Of  frosted  foliage  dropping  like  the  rain 

From  swaying  boughs  left  naked  to  the  night  ? 

And  does  he  hear  again  the  fall  of  feet 

That  somewhere,  sometime,  in  the  long  ago. 
Kept  pace  with  his,  when  carelessly  and  fleet 

They  trod   the   glad  hills,  flushed   with    eastern 
glow  ? 

79 


The  Last  Hill 

And  do  their  voices,  over  hills  between, 

Sound  faintly  still,  like  cries  of  passing  flocks. 

Or  as  through  trees,  from  cataracts  unseen. 
Come  sounds  of  falling  waters  on  the  rocks  ? 

They  do  not  rise  from  out  the  valley  there 

To   greet   him   now ;    they   come   not  with    the 
breeze. 

Out  of  the  dusk,  that  tosses  his  white  hair. 
And  shivers  in  the  branches  of  bare  trees. 

Louder  the  night-wind  wails  about  the  hill ; 

Deeper  the  shadows  gather  over  him ; 
Forgetful  happily,  and  dreaming  still. 

He  disappears  into  the  unknown  dim 

By  paths  our  human  foresight  may  not  trace. 
Across  th'  untrodden  valley  of  the  west. 

And  over  brightening  hills,  to  that  fair  place 
Where  lies,  beyond  the  pilgrimage,  our  rest. 

1878. 


80 


ON   LAKE  GEORGE 

ON  the  dreamy  waters  drifting. 
Hills  around  me  and  before. 
While  the  moon  the  veil  is  lifting 
From  the  islands  and  the  shore. 

Dreaming,  drifting  ;  drifting,  dreaming  ; 

Sipping  draughts  of  airy  lore 
From  the  fount  of  fancy  streaming 

On  the  islands  and  the  shore. 

Dreams  —  they  rise  with  sweet  persistence 
From  the  dim  and  mists  of  yore. 

Rise  and  pass  into  the  distance 
With  the  islands  and  the  shore. 

Oh,  to  drift  and  dream  forever ! 

Oh,  to  drift  for  evermore 
On  a  tide  of  dreams  that  never 

Laps  an  island  or  a  shore  ! 

1879. 


81 


MY   FATHER'S   HOUSE 

LIKE  songs  resung,  yet  seeming  not  the  same, 
I  hear  soft  notes  of  laughter ;  and  a  voice. 
Clearer  than  other  voices,  calls  my  name 
From  out  the  silence  of  my  father's  house. 

Like  cloudy  highlands  lifted  from  the  night. 
Yet  golden  in  the  lingering  afterglow. 

Arise  remembered  seasons,  and  a  light 

That  lifts  the  shadows  in  my  father's  house. 

Intangible,  yet  beautiful,  they  seem. 

Like  glimpses  of  things  longed  for  from  afar ; 

And  1,  as  one  that  waketh  from  a  dream 

That  framed  the  fabric  of  my  father's  house. 

When  still  I  join  with  other  hands  mine  own. 
They  thrill  and  falter  with  unspoken  thought. 

So  strangely  smaller  has  the  circle  grown. 
So  strangely  empty  is  my  father's  house. 
82 


My  Father's  House 

Oh,  vacant  chamber  and  untrodden  hall. 
And  things  familiar  that  have  lost  their  use  ! 

Oh,  days  of  meeting  and  of  festival 

That  were  so  merry  in  my  father's  house ! 

I  may  not  linger,  and  I  turn  away  ; 

Hush,  now,  ye  solemn  voices  of  the  night  ! 
Lo  !  glimmers  from  the  east  another  day 

Against  the  portals  of  my  Father's  House. 

1883. 


"AND   THERE    SHALL   BE  NO 
NIGHT   THERE" 

THERE'S  a  red  burst  of  dawn,  and  a  white  light 
of  noon, 
[And  the  hues  of  the  rainbow  are  seven ;] 
But  the  best  thing  of  all,  when  the  dark  comes  so 
soon. 
Is  to  know  that  it's  ne'er  night  in  Heaven. 

There's  a  break  in  the  clouds,  and  a  sheen  on  the 
rain, 

[And  the  hues  of  the  rainbow  are  seven  ;] 
But  the  sweetest  of  lights  that  can  brighten  our  pain 

Is  to  know  that  it's  ne'er  night  in  Heaven. 

There's  a  calm'  of  the  heart  through  the  long  after- 
noon, 
[And  the  gifts  of  the  Spirit  are  seven,] 
When  there  floats  on  the  dusk,  like  a  leaf-whispered 
tune, 
**  Did  you  know  that  it's  ne'er  night  in  Heaven  ?'* 
84 


"And  There  Shall  Be  No  Night  There" 

There's  a  gleam  through  the  night  of  a  throne  set 
afar, 

[And  the  hues  of  its  rainbow  are  seven ;] 
But  it  stands  not  so  sure  as  God's  promises  are. 

Who  has  said,  **  There  is  no  night  in  Heaven." 


85 


AN  AUCTION 


ONE  little  maid  in  a  cradle. 
Two  little  maids  in  a  bed ; 
Three  little  heads  laid  together. 
Two  little  prayers  softly  said. 
"  Just  a  last  kiss,"  comes  from  Sister, 
And  a  "  Me,  too,"  from  the  bed ; 
Never  a  sound  from  the  cradle. 
One  little  prayer  still  unsaid. 

One  little  maid  and  a  cradle. 

Two  little  maids  and  a  bed ; 
Three  little  maids  altogether. 

Offered  at  so  much  per  head. 
What  will  you  give  me  for  Sister  ? 

What  for  Me  Too  on  the  bed  ? 
What  am  I  bid  for  the  baby  ? 

Going,  at  so  much  per  head. 
86 


An  Auction 

What  !  for  the  babe,  or  the  cradle  ? 

What  !     But  you  mean  for  the  bed  ? 
What  !     '  Will  I  start  with  the  baby  ?' 

Sir,  did  I  catch  what  you  said  ? 
Gentlemen  all,  name  your  figures 

Either  for  cradle  or  bed  ; 
But  —  did  I  mention  a  limit 

Placed  on  each  dear  little  head  ? 


87 


AN    AFTERNOON    IN 
NOVEMBER 

SINCE  Nellie  strayed  through  autumn  woods. 
Where  would  you  have  her  lover  ? 
She  sat  upon  a  fallen  tree. 
And  I  bent  down  above  her. 

It  seemed  a  sunny  afternoon. 

Although  it  was  November ; 
But  if  'twas  warm  or  if  'twas  cold, 

I  really  can't  remember. 

Somehow  her  little  heart  and  mine 

Seemed  just  so  close  together. 
Perhaps  there  was  no  room  between 

For  any  sort  of  weather. 

I  trembled  at  her  coy  dismay 

As  I  leaned  down  above  her. 
Until  I  looked  in  her  brown  eyes. 

And  then  I  said  I  loved  her. 
88 


An  Afternoon  in  November 

So  sweetly  then  the  dearest  smile 
Played  softly  through  her  blushes. 

So  precious  the  low  words  between 
Her  shy  and  dreamy  hushes,  — 

That  when  I  told  my  story  through. 
How  long  I'd  been  her  lover, 

I  took  her  little  hand  in  mine. 
And  straightway  told  it  over. 

I  must  not  write  what  Nellie  said :  — 
Old  book,  you  just  remember 

That,  if  the  crops  are  good,  there'll  be 
A  wedding  in  November. 


89 


THE   PRAISE  OF   PENN 

1882 

(The  tivo  hundredth  anniversary  of  his  landing.) 

NOT  with  the  trumpet  blast  of  martial  song. 
The  noisy  minstrelsy 
And  plaudits  that  to  conquerors  belong. 

The  praise  of  Penn  shall  be ; 
But  simple  words  from  hearts  that  love  the  right 

Shall  greet  the  man  of  peace. 
Whose  name,  enduring  yet,  shall  glow  more  bright 
When  sounds  of  war  shall  cease. 

The  woods  unfurled  to  the  October  air 

Pennons  of  gold  and  flame. 
When,  sailing  up  the  river  Delaware, 

The  good  ship  Welcome  came ; 
And  all  who  dwelt  upon  its  fertile  banks, 

Dutch,  Swedes,  and  Englishmen, 
Gave  salutation,  unto  God  their  thanks. 

And  their  right  hands  to  Penn. 
90 


The  Praise  of  Penn 

Two  hundred  times  upon  the  Delaware 

The  autumn  leaves,  since  then. 
Have  drifted  seaward ;  and  the  dwellers  there 

Who  gave  their  hands  to  Penn 
Long  since  are  mingled  with  the  leaves.    No  more 

The  Welcome  sails  the  sea. 
Forever  harbored  by  the  sheltering  shore 

Of  the  heart's  loyalty. 

Yet  now,  two  hundred  autumns  afterward. 

The  woods  in  red  and  gold. 
And,  stately  as  its  founder's  dream  restored. 

The  city  he  foretold. 
The  broad  fields  stretching  outward  to  the  sea 

Along  the  river-shore, 
Wait  at  the  portals  of  a  century 

To  welcome  Penn  once  more. 

And  what  of  thee  ?    O  woodland  commonwealth  ! 

O  commonwealth  of  Penn  ! 
That  art  no  more  a  woodland,  but  a  breadth 

Of  empire.     Standing  then. 
In  woods  unbroken  to  the  northern  lake. 

Thy  forest  trees ;  so  all 
Thy  sons,  as  many,  stand,  who  for  thy  sake 

Like  forest  trees  would  fall. 
7  91 


The  Praise  of  Penn 

Thou,  from  thy  reverend  altitude  of  days. 

With  hand  uplifted  now. 
Dost  bind  two  woven  centuries  of  praise 

About  thy  founder's  brow  ; 
While  loyal  millions,  loving  him  and  thee. 

Pledge  in  their  hearts'  red  wine 
Two  names,  made  one  in  holy  unity 

Forever  —  his  and  thine. 

Not  with  the  trumpet  blast  of  martial  song. 

The  noisy  minstrelsy 
And  plaudits  that  to  conquerors  belong, 

The  praise  of  Penn  shall  be ; 
But  rather  in  our  watchfulness  for  thee, 

O  queenly  State  !  our  prayer 
That  civil  peace  and  the  soul's  liberty 

May  dwell  immortal  there. 


92 


MEMORY 

A  HILL  that  fronts  a  headland  to  the  sea 
Booming  beneath  and  stretching  endlessly ; 
An  edge  of  land 
Where  bushes  wind-swept  grow. 
And  stunted  trees  that  budded  stand. 

Yet  hesitate  to  blow  ; 
And  from  the  hill,  shadowed  and  black, 

The  herald  of  the  dawn. 
Not  yet  announced,  looks  back. 
His  trumpet  still  withdrawn. 
As  though  he  had  forgotten  to  forget. 
Or  something  to  the  dawn  were  lacking  yet. 


93 


FAMILIAR   MUSIC 

HEAR,  through    the    summer  night,  voices   of 
boatmen 
Singing  the  melodies  they  love  the  best. 
Launched   in   the  passing   airs,  rippling,  that  float 
them 
Far  into  distance  and  harbors  of  rest. 

How  all  the  placid  night  thrills  into  music. 

As  when,  in  brightening  woods,  birds  are  awake  ! 

Softly,  from  either  shore,  the  hills  refuse  it 
In  timid  whispers  that  die  on  the  lake. 

Now  ye  come  nearer  me,  boatmen,  yet  nearer ; 

Louder  the  rhythmical  plash  of  the  oar  : 
Rest  there  a  little  while,  a  lonely  hearer 

Paces  in  silence,  and  unseen,  the  shore. 

Boatmen,  ye  sing  to  him  songs  of  his  childhood. 
Though  in  a  tongue  he  cannot  understand ; 

Dear  as  familiar  flowers  found  in  the  wildwood. 
They,  to  a  stranger,  and  in  a  strange  land. 
94 


Familiar  Music 

Tears  overcoming  me,  tears  of  remembrance 
Mingle  your  music  with  songs  heard  before. 

Ah  !  your  companionship  was  but  a  semblance  ; 
Ye  have  rowed  past  me ;  I  hear  you  no  more. 


95 


THE  OLD  LOVES  AND  THE 
NEW 

I  LOVE  old  books  of  wholesome  wit 
In  calf-skin  (why  rebind  them  ?)  ; 
For  though  with  fun  their  sides  have  split. 

They  leave  a  smile  behind  them  : 
And  some  new  books,  —  the  Autocrat's 

(Saucy  !  you  must  not  mind  them)  ; 
Birrell,  his  dicta  ;   Lang,  his  chats  ; 

*And  Smiles?'     The  smiles  behind  them. 

I  love  old  friends  (some  added  grace 

Could  scarcely  have  refined  them) 
That  say  they  love  you  to  your  face 

When  you  have  wined  and  dined  them  : 
And  some  new  friends.     The  old  are  best 

If  one  could  only  find  them. 
(Don't  go  !     Your  smiles  are  the  bequest 

The  old  ones  left  behind  them.) 
96 


The  Old  Loves  and  the  New 

I  love  true  eyes,  the  time  o'  day 

When  love  has  undermined  them 
(Just  turn  your  face,  my  dear,  this  way) 

By  smiles  that  lurk  behind  them. 
I  love  bright  eyes  —  (you  scamp),  I'd  dare 

With  kisses  now  to  blind  them 
But  that  two  imps  of  mischief  there 

Would  surely  have  declined  them. 


97 


A  NOONING 

OH,  this  is  rest,  —  to  lie  beside 
The  little  woodland  stream. 
To  watch  the  silvered  waters  slide 
Down  mossy  rocks,  then  gently  glide 
Through  shadow  and  sunbeam. 

And  like  a  bird  that  finds  his  mate. 

And  poises  melodies 
Upon  the  boughs,  I  meditate 
On  love,  and  freely  cultivate 

The  comradeship  of  trees. 

Some  other  day,  some  otherwhere, 

I  dream,  as  I  lie  here. 
Wait  fields  unploughed  that  need  the  share. 
From  sun  to  sun  the  round  of  care. 

The  toil,  the  pain,  the  tear. 


1878. 


98 


TO-MORROW 

AN  old  strain  (which  poets  borrow) 
Sings  that  "  Sorrow's  crown  of  sorrow 
Is  remembering  happier  days." 
But  the  blackest  robe  of  sorrow 
Is  the  shadow  of  to-morrow 
And  to-morrow  and  always. 


99 


THE  TEMPLE   OF   THE   NEW 
JERUSALEM 

(upper  darby,  PENNSYLVANIA.) 

THE  Summer  wears  her  crown 
On  this  the  thirtieth  morning  of  the  May : 
Proudly  the  Sun  looks  down 
Upon  his  new-born  child,  a  golden  day. 

Here  the  wild  grasses  wave. 
And  summer  blossoms  that  elsewhere  are  laid 

On  many  a  soldier's  grave 
With  martial  ceremony  and  parade. 

Beside  the  quiet  lane 
That  winds  among  the  farms  on  either  hand. 

Meadows  and  fields  of  grain. 
The  little  church  of  Swedenborg  doth  stand. 

Far  from  the  beating  heart 
Of  the  world's  business  and  activity  ; 

From  all  its  ways  apart 
In  unpretentious,  quaint  simplicity. 


The  Temple  of  the  New  Jerusalem 

The  trees  that  border  it 
Have  mystic  shadows  interweaving  them. 

And  o'er  the  door  is  writ, 
"  The  Temple  of  the  New  Jerusalem." 

Sweet  as  a  saintly  face 
The  simple  faith  that  did  not  hesitate. 

Nor  deem  it  strange,  to  place 
Upon  so  small  a  house  a  name  so  great. 

In  these  bare  walls,  perchance. 
It  saw  the  symbol  of  a  temple  here 

Not  built  by  human  hands. 
But  vaster,  holier,  as  when  angels  rear. 

Upon  a  living  rock, 
A  fabric  spiritual  of  living  stones. 

Such  as  a  little  flock 
Like  this  may  offer  of  God's  chosen  ones. 

Closed  is  the  door ;  and  I 
Tread  the  secluded  place  of  graves,  and  muse 

On  the  unknown  who  lie 
Beneath,  once  wont  to  occupy  these  pews. 


The  Temple  of  the  New  Jerusalem 

This  is  their  family  home. 
Of  which  the  church  seems  but  the  vestibule, 

And  hither  they  are  come 
Like  tired  children  hurrying  from  school. 


Here  is  the  pastor's  grave. 
His  faithful  flock  beside  him  gathered  still : 

He  powerless  to  save. 
And  they  to  follow  up  the  heavenly  hill. 

Yonder  I  read  his  name. 
Who  in  these  colonies  of  old  King  George, 

First,  for  his  master's  fame. 
Printed  the  mystic  words  of  Swedenborg. 

A  tiny  flag  I  see 
Over  a  soldier's  grave,  as  if  in  prayer 

It  waved  its  hand  to  me. 
To  stoop  and  lay  these  starry  daisies  there. 

I  thought  I  was  alone  ; 
But  there,  beside  the  unmarked  mound  of  clay. 

An  aged  form  bends  down 
To  celebrate  her  Decoration  Day. 


The  Temple  of  the  New  Jerusalem 

So  womanhood  doth  bow 
At  many  shrines  deserted  but  by  her  ; 

The  last  to  hope,  and  now 
She  lingers  last  beside  the  sepulchre. 

I  leave  her  with  her  own ; 
And  fancy  I  were  satisfied  to  know 

That,  when  my  years  have  flown, 
I,  too,  might  lie  in  peace  where  wild  flowers  grow ; 

To  wake,  beyond  the  years. 
With  these  that  slept,  a  worshipper  with  them 

When  in  the  Heavens  appears 
The  Temple  of  the  New  Jerusalem. 

1882. 


103 


Sonnets 


105 


BRYANT 

1878 

OPOET,  in  whose  song  we  heard  the  breath 
Of  winds  through  woodlands  musical  with 
birds. 
And  sounds  of  falling  waters  in  thy  words. 
Why  is  it,  when  thou  liest  low  in  death. 
The  earth  thou  didst  so  love  can  bear  to  be 
Apparelled  in  the  cheerfulness  of  June  ? 
The  arc  thou  sawest  groweth  to  full-moon. 
Nor  doth  all  nature  mould  one  tear  for  thee  : 

But  in  our  hearts  a  still  of  autumn  broods. 
And  there,  in  sad  and  dreamy  undertone. 
Thy  scarce-hushed  voice,  remembered,  lingers  still 

Like  sobbings  of  a  wind  through  frost-shorn  woods 
When  from  bared  boughs  the  singing-birds  have 

flown. 
And  withered  leaves  are  drifting  down  the  hill. 


107 


A  DEDICATION 

THIS  simple  offering  that  I  may  not  send 
To  whom  I  would,  with  love  I  consecrate. 
And,  on  her  altar  laid,  I  dedicate 
These  verses  to  the  memory  of  my  friend. 
Time  wrote  them  on  my  heart,  and  I  but  lend 
A  voice  to  sing  them,  while  beyond  my  sight 
He  somewhere  waits  till  time  "  The  end"  shall 

write 
Beneath  my  verses,  and  restore  my  friend. 

Time  wrote  them  in  the  twilight  that  must  be 
In  this  our  lasting  friendship's  way-side  inn. 
Since  God  so  suddenly  put  out  the  light 

That  showed  the  features  of  his  face  to  me. 
And  took  His  wondering  boy  away  with  Him 
Ere  he  had  time  to  bid  me  a  Good-night. 

loth  February,  1881. 


to8 


LONELINESS 

I  HEARD  a  plaintive  sound  among  the  trees, 
A  breath  of  murmured  music,  and  a  throb 
That,  if  it  had  been  human,  were  a  sob. 
And  died  away  in  sighings  on  the  breeze. 
Then  in  my  heart  I  said,  "  Within  this  wood 
There  is  a  sympathy  :  kind  nature  weaves 
About  my  grief  a  coronal  of  leaves. 
And  binds  it  with  a  song  of  saddest  mood." 

Ah,  no  !  It  is  the  soul  alone  that  grieves  ; 
And  never  yet  our  sorrows  wrung  a  sigh 
From  nature,  but  our  fancy  woke  to  find 

We  heard  but  rhythmic  rustlings  of  the  leaves. 
That  flap  and  twist  and  bend  unpityingly 
Beneath  the  pulseless  fingers  of  the  wind. 


109 


THE   UNCHANGEABLE 

HOW  beautiful  the  thought  to  one  who  stands 
Encircled  by  a  tidal-flow  of  change. 
Whose  billows,  with  a  murmur  sad  and  strange. 
Break  ceaselessly  about  him  on  the  sands ; 
While  chilly-burdened  winds  encompassing 
The  shore,  make  monody  of  days  that  were. 
With  prophecies  of  all  unrest,  and  stir 
His  soul  with  longing  for  some  steadfast  thing  :  — 

How  beautiful  to  him  the  thought  of  God, 

Who,  farther  back  than  cycle-reach,  was  Love, 
And  shall  be  when  the  cycles  die  again. 

Still  Love,  unchangeable  :  a  shore  so  broad. 
So  firm,  beyond  all  tides,  all  storms  above, 
A  rock  'gainst  which  time-billows  dash  in  vain  ! 

1878. 


CEDARS  BY   MOONLIGHT 

(^«  etching  by  Smillie.) 

A  GROUP  of  cedars  rising  from  a  hill, 
Spectral,  distinct,  against  the  mottled  sky  : 
Above  them,  through  the  thin  clouds  sailing  by. 
The  moon  shines  timidly,  against  its  will. 
And  they  are  clustered  close,  as  though  a  thrill 
Of  fear  possessed  them  that  they  were  so  high 
Upon  the  mountain-ridge,  the  edge  so  nigh. 
The  vault  beyond  so  fathomless  and  still :  — 

I  know  not  where.     Perchance  it  only  be 

The  mind's  remembrance  of  some  halting-place. 
Wherein,  beneath  hope's  fitful  gleams,  I  stood ; 

Yet  half  afraid,  because  I  could  not  see 
Its  light  reflected  from  some  other  face. 
Nor  through  the  moonless  shadows  find  the  road. 


OF  THEM  THAT   SLEEP 

OF  you,  our  hearts'  beloved,  who  are  dead, 
I,  who  have  stayed  behind  you,  softly  sing  ; 
Sing  softly,  as  the  wind  does,  murmuring 
Among  the  trees  for  blossoms  that  are  shed. 
And  all  the  summer  greenness  that  has  fled ; 
In  its  own  wind's  way  quaintly  questioning 
Why  all  the  leaves  that  budded  in  the  spring 
Have  fallen,  and  are  drifting,  restless,  dead. 

I  sing,  and  can  ye  hear  me  ?     And  do  I 
Hear  nothing,  while  I  listen,  but  the  wind 
For  something  seeking  that  it  cannot  find. 

And  calling,  vainly  calling,  passing  by  ? 

My  heart  cries  to  the  distance,  and  says  Hark  ! 
As  one  that  heard  an  echo  through  the  dark. 

1882. 


The  March  of  Braddock 


113 


THE   MARCH    OF  BRADDOCK 

1755 

THE  wind  that  blew  from  westward,  like  a 
courier  mounted  well. 
Sped  o'er  the  Alleghanies  with  the  news  it  had  to  tell 
From  inn  to  inn  by  every  road,  at  every  farm  and  forge. 
To  every  loyal  subject  of  His  Majesty  King  George 
Between  Savannah  River  and  the  waters  of  Cham- 
plain  :  — 
**  The  lilies  of  the  Bourbon  King  wave  over  Fort 
Du  Quesne." 

It  bore  the  news  to  England,  like  a  carrier  strong 

of  wing. 
And  whispered  it  in  Cabinet  to  Cumberland   and 

King. 
They  summon  General  Braddock  :   "  You  a  trusty 

soldier  are  ; 
Take  our  two  Irish  regiments  of  Halket  and  Dunbar 
Across  the  sea,  and  fight  the  French  with  all  your 

might  and  main. 
And  bring  you  back  that  Bourbon  rag,  torn  down 

from  Fort  Du  Quesne." 
"5 


The  March  of  Braddock 

The    wind    that    blew    from    eastward   brought  an 

English  fleet  to  shore. 
The  Norwich,  the  Centurion,  transports  and  ships 

of  store. 
At  Yorktown  and  St.   Mary's,  too,  it  was  a  joyful 

day 
When   like  a  flock   of  water-birds   they   sailed   up 

Chesapeake  Bay. 
"Hurrah  for  General  Braddock  !"  and  again  and  yet 

again, 
"  God  speed   the   British   Regulars  who  march   to 

Fort  Du  Quesne !" 

Toward  camp  at  Alexandria   the   provincial   levies 

come 
To  the  shrill  blast  of  the  fifers  and  the  beating  of 

the  drum, — 
The   hatchetmen   and    carpenters,   the   rangers   and 

light-horse  ; 
And  underneath  their  uniforms,  motley  and  quaint 

and  coarse. 
Their  honest  hearts  are  panting  for  the  glory  they 

shall  gain 
In  the  service  of  old  Braddock  and  the  conquest  of 

Du  Quesne. 

ii6 


The  March  of  Braddock 

Loud    laugh   the   Regulars    to    see   the   raw   militia 

boys. 
Who  gave  themselves  ('twas  all  they  had)  to  help 

the  royal  cause. 
But  did  not  wear  their  throbbing  hearts  upon  their 

homespun  sleeves. 
To    Governor    Dinwiddle,    "  Pray,    what    sort    of 

troops  are  these  ?" 
Exclaims  the  pompous  General  in  the  shock  of  his 

disdain. 
"  Well,  General,  you  may  need  them  ere  you  get  to 

Fort  Du  Quesne." 

O  weary  months  of  waiting  in  the  half-provisioned 
camp. 

The  General  with  the  Governors  around  the  council- 
lamp  : 

He  fumes  and   storms  above  them,  and  he  shakes 
before  their  eyes 

Their  pledges  and  their  contracts  for  his  waggons 
and  supplies. 

He    curses    them,   their    colonies  ;    the    Governors 
explain  : 

And  still  the  Bourbon  lilies  wave  o'er  distant  Fort 
Du  Quesne. 

117 


The  March  of  Braddock 

The  spring  is  green  before  his  troops  begin  to  move 

away ; 
The  spring  has  turned  to  summer-time  before  their 

full  array- 
Is  mustered   at  Fort   Cumberland,  and   their  com- 
mander's eyes 
See    all    made    ready    for    the    march    beneath    the 

burning  skies. 
Hark !     There's  the  signal  cannon  in  the  clear  air 

sounding  plain  ; 
"  Fall  in"  and  "  Forward  march"  at  last,  and  off  for 
Fort  Du  Quesne  ! 

Straight  up  the  pathless  mountain-range  they  push 
their  devious  course. 

Artillery    and    infantry,    the     waggons    and    light- 
horse  ; 

St.   Clair  ahead  ;  the  struggling  line  trails  back  of 
him  four  miles, 

A  living  thread  stretched  ready  to  be  snapped  by 
savage  wiles ; 

The   horses   broken-kneed,  the  men  are  sick   with 
heat  and  pain  : 

A   hundred   thirty   miles   away   as   yet  is  Fort   Du 
Quesne. 

ii8 


The  March  of  Braddock 

Into  Great  Savage  Wilderness  the  axemen  cut  their 

way 
Through  towering   forests  of  white   pine  that   bar 

the  light  of  day. 
Within  whose  gloomy  silence  lives  no  creature  that 

has  breath  ; 
And  man  to  man  is  whispering,  **  They  are  called 

The  Shades  of  Death." 
Hark !    Firing    there !     The    Indians  ?     'Tis    some 

horse  in  mercy  slain. 
And  with  each  sinking  sun  they  gain  but  two  miles 

toward  Du  Quesne. 

The  cannon  and  the  waggons,  some  are  spiked  and 

some  are  broke. 
And  some  get  down  the  precipice  with  tackle  and 

with  rope. 
Now  lash  the  panting  horses  !  and  now  cheer  the 

fainting  men  ! 
The  cliffs  of  Meadow  Mountain  must  be  climbed 

to-day  :   and  then 
Behold  the  Little  Meadows,  for  St.  Clair  has  gained 

the  plain  : 
His  camp  is  but  a  hundred  miles  away  from  Fort 

Du  Quesne. 

119 


The  March  of  Braddock 

Now    halt    till   the   pack-horses    and    the    waggons 

come  in  slow ; 
Halt  here  for  Major  Washington  (he  gave  out  long 

ago): 
Now  halt  until  the  stragglers   come  with  bruised, 

bleeding  feet. 
And  deal    them  out   an   extra   share  of  water   and 

salt  meat  : 
Halt  for  Dunbar  the  Tardy,  —  and  the  equinoctial 

rain 
Will  fall  before  the  British  flag  is  planted  on  Du 

Quesne. 

Forward    the    light    division !     The    four    hundred 

with  St.  Clair  ; 
And  where  they  make  a  forest  path,  Braddock  will 

follow  there  ; 
Through  streams  and  deep  morasses,  over  mountain 

and  through  glen. 
To  where  man's  foot  has  never  trod,  go  forward. 

Englishmen ! 
The  sun  shall  dry  your  bleeding  feet,  the  showers 

cool  your  brain. 
As,  tracked  by  skulking  savages,  you  march  to  Fort 

Du  Quesne. 

1 20 


The  March  of  Braddock 

The    last  hard    climb   is   over,  and    the   last   day's 

setting  sun 
Glares    red    upon    the    camping-ground    by    wild 

Sewickley  Run  ; 
Between  the  netted  foliage  there  its  latest  wavering 

gleam 
Is   flashed   from    the   fresh-burnished  arms    stacked 

close  beside  the  stream. 
And   every  tired   soldier  on  the  ground  where  he 

has  lain 
Is  dreaming  that  to-morrow  night  he  sleeps  in  Fort 

Du  Quesne. 

Thy   shores,  Monongahela,  see   a  royal   sight   this 

day 
When  Braddock  with  his  Regulars  in  their  full-dress 

array. 
To    bursts    of    martial    melody    from    every    hill 

retold. 
Thy  shallows  ford  ;    their  uniforms  of  scarlet  and 

of  gold 
Within  thy  waves  reflected  till  the  sloping  banks 

they  gain. 
And   rally  with   an    English   cheer   that's   heard   at 

Fort  Du  Quesne. 


The  March  of  Braddock 

**  The   road    is   open.  General :    'tis   an   easy   path 

from  here." 
"  Then  forward,  boys,  one  effort  more  :   now  one 

more  English  cheer !" 
"  Hold !     hold !"     pleads     cautious     Washington  ; 

"make  sure  beyond  a  doubt; 
Let   the   Virginian   foresters    go   beat   these   woods 

about." 
"You  raw   militia   stripling,  if  you're   afraid  you 

can  remain," 
Old  Braddock  says,  and  swears  an  oath  he'll  sup  in 

Fort  Du  guesne. 

"  Forward  !"  the  angry  General  shouts  :  quickly  his 

troops  reply. 
Up  from  the  river-bank  they  come  ;  "  We're  almost 

there,"  they  cry. 
Beat  louder,  faster,  drummers  !    while  they  march 

with  eager  stride 
Into  the  narrow  forest  road,  hemmed  in  on  either 

side  ; 
Looking  to  see  the  fort  ahead  at  each  turn  of  the 

lane. 
And    not    an   enemy   in    sight    between    them   and 

Du  Quesne. 

122 


The  March  of  Braddock 

Firing  upon  the  front !  and  now  the  charging  cheers 

of  troops. 
The  thrilling  "  Vive  le  Roi !"  amid  blood-curdling 

Indian  whoops. 
Firing  along  the  wavering  lines  !  and  now  upon  the 

rear 
Still    standing    firm    and    waiting    till    the    enemy 

appear ! 
Like  hail  the  balls  and  arrows  come  ;  like  dead  leaves 

fall  the  slain  ; 
But  not  an  enemy  in  sight  between  them  and  Du 

Quesne. 

The  advance  gives  way,  the  regiments  are  herded 

into  one ; 
While  to  the  forefront  Braddock  rides,  his  charger 

at  full  run  : 
"  Around  your  colours  rally,  men  :  now  forward  by 

platoons :" 
Waving  his   sword   above   his   head,  the  wounded 

General  swoons. 
Across   his   body  where  he   lies,  now    kicked   and 

kicked  again. 
The  panting  herd  of  soldiers  rush  at  full  run  from 

Du  Quesne ! 
9  123 


The  March  of  Braddock 

Fly,  fly,  ye    British   Regulars :    throw   down  your 

arms  and  fly. 
And  leave  your  fallen  General  on   the   battle-field 

to  die  ; 
Across  the  ford   and  through  the  woods  to  camp, 

and  tell  Dunbar 
That  dead   and   dying   in   the   road   eight  hundred 

soldiers  are  ! 
Fly,  fly,  ye  British  Regulars,  with  all  your  might 

and  main ; 
The  Indians  chase,  —  fly  faster  than  you  came   to 

Fort  Du  Quesne ! 

But   of  the   horrors   of  that   scene    when  all   who 

could  have  flown. 
And  to  the  Indians  left  the  rest  —  the  death-shriek 

and  the  groan. 
The  savage  torture  limb  by  limb — no  human  voice 

could  tell. 
Though  it  should  speak  with  cloven  tongues  of  fire 

from  deepest  hell. 
Shame !  shame  to  France,  —  the  eyes  that  look,  the 

hands  that  might  restrain  ! 
And  in  the  setting  sun  blush  red  her  lilies  on  Du 

Quesne. 

124 


The  March  of  Braddock 

O    night-wind    from    the    westward,    passing    over 

Braddock's  Field, 
Thou  needst  not  pray  the  shadows  there  his  mangled 

corpse  to  shield. 
By  brave  Virginia  soldiers,  and  on  strong  Virginia 

arms. 
He's  borne  beyond  the  scalpers'  reach  and  fear  of 

their  alarms  ; 
The  death- sweat  on  his  forehead,  while  he  whispers, 

in  his  pain. 
To  lay  him  in  a  nameless  grave  not  far  from  Fort 

Du  Quesne. 

O  night-wind,  speed  from  inn  to  inn,  to  every  farm 

and  forge. 
To    every    anxious    subject   of  His    Majesty   King 

George  : 
Awaken     Philadelphia    with    thy     blasts    untimely 

cold. 
And     from     the     steeple    of     Christ     Church     let 

muffled  bells  be  tolled  ; 
While    yet    the   voice    that    trembles    through    the 

names  of  brave  men  slain 
Thanks  Heaven  that  saved  Washington  from  death 

at  Fort  Du  Quesne. 

125 


The  March  of  Braddock 

O  wind  that  blows  from  westward,  waft  the  ship 
in  which  he  came 

Who  sends  back  nothing  to  his  King  except  a 
tarnished  name  : 

Tell  out  thy  tale  at  council-board  :  the  Duke  him- 
self shall  say, 

**  Had  Washington  commanded,  there  were  better 
news  to-day." 

Blow,  blow,  ye  winds  from  westward,  till  your 
warnings  shall  make  plain 

The  lesson  God  taught  England  by  defeat  at  Fort 
Du  guesne. 

1880. 


126 


Ill 

1 

fililiiii 

012  01129  0501 

DATE  DUE 

ccp  1  Q  1997 

bi-Y   i-  0  'li 

- 





^ 

DEMCO  38-297 


^9^ 


